


Sweet Dreams

by WizardSandwich



Series: Toaster Fics [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: F/M, Trans Female Character, toaster and jazz didn't see prowl die and they're in for it when they find out, trans jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich
Summary: Jazz and Toaster, at the parade.
Relationships: Toaster/Jazz
Series: Toaster Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594627
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Sweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fic of questionable quality i wrote it on a whim tbh

Part of Toaster had never expected to see Jazz again. The Ops team that had been left on Cybertron had long accepted their reality—they would probably never see their team, leaders, companions, friends, lovers, family, ever again. Their fellow Autobots had been gone for far too long. They had expected and accepted _loss._

But, somehow, Toaster finds himself smushed under Jazz’s arm as if she’d never left.

“You sure you want to come to the parade?” Jazz asks, her visor bright yet somehow incredibly soft as she looks down at him. “I heard Perceptor was skipping out. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to.”

Jazz’s voice is understanding and soothing. Millennia of conditional almost-isolation has made so many of the Ops agents averse to large crowds, even Toaster who thrived on gossip. He’d spent time around the same set of ‘Bots and ‘Cons for far too long.

Toaster smiles up at her, hoping it’s reassuring, “I’m fine, Jazz.”

Jazz nods, taking his reassurance at face value. Far be it for Toaster to lie to her after so long. She wouldn’t begrudge him for anything.

“If you ever want to leave…” she trails off, leaving the statement open-ended.

Toaster nods, “I’ll tell you.”

“Good,” Jazz says, leaning over to kiss Toaster’s cheek. Toaster feels energon rise to his face. He’s not quite used to this affection that they’d been skirting a millennia ago. “Now, I heard Optimus was going to man the float. We’d better get to the front so that we can see it.”

The implied follow up is “I can tease him about it later,” despite Jazz not continuing. It was the natural circle of her and Optimus’ friendship, just like Prowl dragging Toaster into mischief or Mirage and Prowl’s bickering.

“Is Prowl on the float with him?” Toaster asks. “I haven’t seen him since…”

Toaster trails off, pausing. His memories are hazy in the worst way. He tries to recall where he last saw Prowl and he _can’t._ Which doesn’t make sense. They’re amica. Toaster should know where he saw Prowl last.

The haziness, the lack of recollection bites under his plating and he looks up at Jazz. A dark expression crosses her face. She looks faraway and Toaster knows that she can feel it too.

“I don’t remember,” Jazz says, soft and dangerous after a moment.

They both know that not remembering like this means something. It’s a pressing weight that Toaster can’t quite figure out the pressure of. Not remembering usually means he was drugged or hacked or whatever else. But how could they have gotten to Jazz and Toaster both?

“I don’t either,” Toaster tells her. “It’s all fuzzy. Vague.”

Jazz’s arm drops from around his shoulders. He can practically see her optics dart around the parade despite her visor. Suspicion doesn’t color her frame, but that’s only because she’s trained to hide it.

Optimus’ parade float begins to move along the street, catching Toaster’s attention for only a moment. He lets his gaze flicker through the crowd, looking for anyone suspicious or out of character, but he can find nothing.

“Let’s find Skids and Mirage,” Toaster suggests. “They should be able to help us figure this out, right?”

Jazz opens her mouth to speak and—

Somehow, Toaster finds himself smushed under Jazz’s arm as if she’d never left.


End file.
